


Lie

by KunziteFlowers



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Fire, Fire related death, M/M, Suicide, not betaread lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KunziteFlowers/pseuds/KunziteFlowers
Summary: You know Yuyoyuppe's song Leia? Yeah take that but make it VilIdia. If you can't handle what is in the tags don't read.
Relationships: Vil Schoenheit/Idia Shroud
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are in tags, if you cannot handle it don't read

Painting, he must keep painting.

It started with rough sketches, sketches based off of his memory, sketches based off photos, sketches based off of anything he could find.

Anything that reminded him of Vil. 

It had been years after they graduated from NRC; Vil had pursued his career as an actor and model while Idia had furthered his pursuit of technology. They had been apart for a time due to their differing paths, but ever since they graduated their relationship had only grown. They had stayed in touch with each other, they had texted every day, and when Vil was free they would be together, spending time with each other. 

Alas, it wasn’t meant to last. Vil got busier and busier, unable to talk with Idia as often, and Idia got fixated on his work and games, ultimately getting absorbed into his own world. Ortho had stayed with him, tried to get him to take care of himself and take breaks from working and to talk to people, especially since he often didn’t reply to Vil when he did text, be it he was hyper-focused or passed out after a long period without sleep, and when neither were the case, he would make an effort to respond, though he often got distracted mid-reply and never sent it. 

And then, when Vil finally was able to get a break. He had made sure he could spend time with Idia, to make up for the time they couldn’t be together, but Idia was too absorbed in his own work. His pursuit of technological advancement was the only thing on his mind. 

Vil didn’t mind him being like this, it was bound to happen at times due to Idia’s temperament, but Ortho had told him that he’d been like this for a while, ever since Vil kept getting busier. Hearing of this, Vil had taken it upon himself to get Idia out of this. 

“Idia,” he had tried to grab his attention, shaking his shoulder slightly. “Have you designed anything recently? You usually send me process sketches of your projects but you haven’t sent any in a while.” 

And to that, Idia finally broke from his computer, looking towards Vil. He looked paler somehow, if that were even possible for someone with a paperwhite complexion.

“I have some things sketched out, been more focused on coding and other things, but here” He had grabbed some sketchbooks from by his desk and handed them to Vil to flip through before going back to what he was doing. 

Vil sighed but started flipping through, the rough sketches of Ortho designs and other machinery filling the pages, but then when he got to the back pages, he was met with doodles and sketches of Vil, all based on various photoshoots and roles he had in movies. 

He then went to the next book, this one filled with colored pictures, and yet again when he flipped to the back, there he was, this time, like all the other drawings in this book, in color. 

“Idia, you’ve never shown me these things you did of me, they’re really nice.”

“Eh? What, they’re just things I do to warm-up before designing, no point in showing them”

“Well, maybe why don’t you do a serious portrait of me, full-sized and detailed? It would give you a well-needed break from your computer, and we could hang it up somewhere as well.”

“Nah, I’m an engineer, not an artist. I may have the talent but I have no want to do it professionally or anything, and it isn’t something I would like as a hobby either, it’s just something I do for ideas and designs. For as much as I love you, forget about me seriously drawing you as anything but a warm-up” 

Vil chuckled slightly, “Typical of you, honestly.” He placed a small kiss on Idia’s cheek, “But If you insist, I’ll drop it. Still though, send me pictures of your work, I love seeing them, even if I don’t completely get your machines.”

Idia gave a huff in response, a hint of a smile on his face. “We can do something tonight, Vil, promise, make up for when I forgot to respond all those times''

“It’s a deal then. In the meantime, I’m going out, Cater needs me for whatever wild idea he has, and of course, I’ll oblige”

“See you after, then” 

And with that, Vil had left. That was the last conversation Idia and Vil would ever have; with the real, living Vil that is. 

On his way to see Cater, there had been… an accident. At a crosswalk. Someone had come out of nowhere and well… the rest can be inferred. A life had been lost. Vil’s life, and the news spread, it spread quickly. The death of an A-list celebrity was a big deal, and Idia was the most affected. 

That last conversation would play in his mind constantly, rendering him unable to focus on anything other than his now-dead lover. 

He had brushed him off before, he’d been brushing him off for a while, getting so engrossed in his own work and other things that he didn’t pay any attention to Vil. They were both independent, yes, but the times they spent together were enjoyable. 

Idia had visited Vil’s grave every chance he could; his funeral was private, the location of his grave kept secret from the public, but of course people ultimately found it and visited it, leaving behind gifts and offerings of sorts. Some of the things left behind were… unsightly and/or inappropriate in nature, things Vil would rather not have at his resting place. 

Idia pushed some of the offerings aside, allowing a full view of the tombstone.

**Vil Schoenheit-Shroud**

**20XX-20XX**

**Fairest of All**

Idia sat down. Every time he visited Vil, he couldn’t cry; his hair would only weaken in intensity, but no matter how much he wanted to, tears wouldn’t come. He had cried all the tears that he had when Vil was declared dead. 

Once more, their last conversation replayed in his mind.

_ “Well, maybe why don’t you do a serious portrait of me, full-sized and detailed _ ”

That one sentence. That sentence is what haunted him the most.

_ Do a serious portrait of me. _

Could that have been considered his final request? Would that put him to rest completely? And then, Idia remembered something. The paintings in NRC, they spoke. Maybe if he painted Vil… Maybe he’d come back.

“Vil, I’m going to bring you back, just wait for me”

Idia got up, hurrying off back to their home. He could do what he did with Ortho and rebuild him, but Idia knew Vil wouldn’t like that, and thus he decided against it, even if we wished for a physical body to be able to hold and be with. 

Idia had Ortho buy some canvases, a request that confused Ortho but he fulfilled it nonetheless, and then Idia got to sketching. 

He drew drafts and ideas for hours, trying to come up with the perfect image of him. He went through different combinations of outfits and poses, many based on Vil’s personal wardrobe and past photoshoots. It had to be perfect, it had to depict Vil’s beauty completely. Any mistakes, any slight imperfections, anything unwanted would cause Idia to throw out the idea. 

He spent countless days and sleepless nights drawing, still looking for the perfect depiction of Vil, and then he did it, he found the perfect sketch to move on with.

It was the outfit Vil was wearing the day they got engaged; a gray ruffle shirt with a black corset - akin to something a vampire would wear - with a long coat on his shoulders, his pants tight against his legs and waist. He also had his signature heels, the pair he wore for special occasions. It was perfect. And for his pose? He was sitting in a chair, holding a bouquet of lavender flowers and roses, which would be painted black, and staring down at them, a soft expression on his face.

A small part of Idia’s mind told him this would be all for naught, that this would not allow Vil to come back. Idia ignored these thoughts, telling himself that this painting would be his magnum opus.

“Just wait Vil, we’ll be back with each other again. We’ll be together when I finish this painting”

There was no response, only silence.

Idia went to start sketching the design onto a canvas, but soon he felt his lack of sleep catching up to him. He had been awake for days, only ever having brief naps clocking in at about 20 minutes each. His body was telling him to go to bed, and for once, he listened.

The dreams he had when he slept were haunted by his partner. His voice, his clothes, his face, everything lingered. When Idia woke, he was crying, crying for the return of his dearest.

“I just need to finish him, then he’ll be back, he’ll have to come back.”

With that, Idia got up, going to continue his work. He started sketching on the canvas, looking at his sketchbook to make sure everything was perfect. It had to be perfect, just like Vil. He spent hours making sure everything was correct, every flower petal was in the right spot, every fold in clothing was correct. It didn’t matter that he was going to paint over it, it still had to be perfect. Vil was perfect both inside and out, and so the painting had to be. If it wasn’t, would it really be Vil? Vil wouldn’t want to come back if it wasn’t perfect. 

Ortho had checked in on him multiple times, trying to get him to snap out of this, trying to get him to go outside, something already difficult to get him to do. 

“Nii-san, you need to stop and come outside. You’ve been going for hours without break. At least eat and drink something, this isn’t healthy for you.”

Idia ignored him, waving him off. He loved Ortho as much as he did Vil, but at the moment, Vil took priority over everything, even Ortho, even over Idia himself. Was this mindset unhealthy? Yes, but when did Idia ever really have a healthy relationship with death? When Ortho died, he slaved away to rebuild him, and now he would do that again for his love, except this time instead of robotics, it was art.

No matter how much Ortho persisted, Idia would never budge. The younger Shroud would leave food and drink to make sure he didn't die of thirst or starvation, which most likely would have happened if he weren’t there. 

Idia ate when he was given the food; he was grateful for Ortho making sure he didn’t starve. Why didn't he get food himself? He couldn’t. Vil wouldn’t let him. Vil took priority. He always took priority. 

Idia continued on, getting the paint and starting to layer it onto the sketch. If he messed up now, he’d not be able to continue without restarting the entire thing over again. Any stray paint, any accidental strokes, any sign of an unsteady hand, any of that would make him change to a new canvas, starting the process over again from the sketch.

He painted. And painted. And painted. He was cautious to make no mistakes and went slowly, now wanting to have to start over completely.

“This will be worth it in the end… This is all for Vil… Isn’t that right? You’ll come back when I am finished painting you” He spoke to the canvas, which simply sat there, the paint on it drying slowly. “Of course you will, why wouldn't you come back.” Idia kept telling himself this, telling himself that Vil would come back once the piece was finished. He was a prisoner to his own delusion, one that he wouldn’t get out of any time soon. 

Idia spent many hours painting, many nights he went without sleep, the most he got being about 20 minute naps at sporadic intervals. Ortho kept trying to get him to stop, but still, Idia persisted in his work, and all Ortho could do was watch from the sidelines, making sure his brother didn’t starve himself. 

Finally, after days of restless painting, he was almost finished. The entire painting was coming together, he had made no mistakes, it was going to be perfect, just like He was. Just like He is.

He started to continue the final brush strokes of the painting, detailing the hair and clothing to make it realistic. Finally, he was finished.

“Vil… I finished it, now come back, please. Come back once the paint dries”

No response from the painting. He elected to finally sleep, letting it dry overnight. His lover would come back when he wakes up, he’ll come back when the paint is dry, he has to come back. Idia knows he will come back, or at least, that’s the lie he’s been telling himself all this time. 

When he woke up, he immediately went to the painting, speaking to it.

“Vil, it’s dry now, are you there?”

No response.

“Vil, don’t mess with me, I know you’re there, come on.”

No response. 

He kept trying to get the painting to respond, not believing that Vil wasn’t there. He had to be there, he had to have come back. Idia’s cries for him to come back were only ever met with silence, Vil’s serene face seemingly mocking him. Mocking him for believing you really could bring the dead back to life. 

He had played god once with Ortho, he wouldn’t be allowed to do it again with Vil. 

Ortho had heard Idia’s crying from outside his room, crying which turned to deafening wails. Idia had finally realized the lie he had been telling himself. He realized that Vil would never come back, that he was gone forever. When Ortho had gone to his door, he felt heat. A blistering heat that no human would be able to stand for long periods of time. And then, he heard the alarm. 

He opened Idia’s door, only to be met with a sea of flames. Idia’s flames. His hair was reaching the ceiling, burning a bright red from anger. Anger at himself for genuinely believing he could do it again. Believing he could bring Vil back. 

Not all the flames were Idia’s hair, though. Many of the flames taking the room were from Idia’s own magic. He was screaming, screaming about how stupid he was. Ortho did his best to stop the flames, but by the time he had gotten to Idia, it seemingly was too late. His face was bloodied, and his eyes… he had scratched out his eyes. 

Idia was holding the painting of Vil with his blood covered hands, the painting burning. Idia felt the heat, he didn’t care. Ortho grabbed Idia to drag him out, but even he wasn’t completely indestructible. The heat and fire had gotten to his body, his current gear not being equipped to handle these types of temperatures. 

Ortho managed to drag Idia away, but not without great damage to himself. Soon enough, Idia’s wails died down, but so did his breathing. He had suffered so much damage from the fire, his body was charred. Ortho couldn’t do anything, either. They were both severely damaged, Idia barely living. He still had the now-burnt painting with him, a reminder of the lie he lived. He hated it.

With the last of his ability, he conjured new flames, taking himself, Ortho, and the painting into the inferno. 

With that, they breathed their last, going home to the Underworld. 

.

The Asphodel Meadows. This is where Vil ended up. It was mediocre, his time here, but he couldn’t complain. He was just a shade, a soul who had finished its time among the living people.

He had no knowledge of Idia’s actions, he simply wished for Idia to be happy without him. He was content with his new situation, content with the people he met here is Asphodel. If he were to stay here for the rest of time, he would be fine with that. His only wish was for Idia to eventually join him, living in this place together.

This wish would be realized sooner than Vil expected. Just less than a month after he had died, Idia had followed, Ortho in tow. This Ortho, however, wasn’t a robot, he was how he looked before he originally died, just a little boy. 

As soon as Idia saw Vil, he went up to him, sobbing.

“Idia? What are you and Ortho doing here?”

“I-i missed you too much, I had to be with you again” Idia spoke through his sobs, hugging Vil. Ortho soon followed this action. 

Vil understood the implications of this, and simply sighed. 

“Reckless…. Well, there is no going back now, I suppose. Now we are able to be together, death can’t touch us anymore, my dears”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The outfit description for the painting was inspired by @.pluvia_choco's pieces in the twst_OOTD tag on twitter


End file.
